


Show me how

by Aethelar



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fem!Graves, Shameless Smut, but temporarily so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 05:43:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15212462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aethelar/pseuds/Aethelar
Summary: “You can’t relax?” Tina repeated, and bless her for understanding that feeling constantly on edge and tense wasn’t a trivial thing, but Graves would really prefer to not be having this conversation. He sought out a phrase he thought would likely derail her and went with it.“I’m rather lacking the equipment I usually use,” he said, making a vague gesture with one hand at his lower half.





	Show me how

The curse that turned Percival Graves into a woman was, unfortunately, time locked and impossible to break before the lock ran down. Equally unfortunate was the fact that Graves was an impatient sod at the best of times and his attempts to shatter the curse with sheer brute force had left the time lock jumpy and unpredictable. At best guess, he had anywhere from a few days to a few  _decades_  before his newly feminine form would revert back to its rightful masculine self. In the meantime he had to contend with a body that was the wrong shape, a face in the mirror that was too wide eyed and too soft to be his, and the  _thoroughly_  disturbing feeling of not fitting inside his skin. It was like trying to interact with the world via hand puppet; everything felt off, as though he were somehow one step removed from reality. His balance was odd, his fingers required different strengths to pick things up, his voice sounded strange and high pitched in his ears.

It was less than ideal.

And worse, worse than that was he didn’t know how this body  _worked_ and so he couldn’t make it relax and unwind the way he was used to doing. It made him unsettled, unable to watch his words in the way he usually did, unable to keep the mask of calm collection that he relied on in his day to day life. It even made him blurt out things he didn’t mean to say at  _completely_  inappropriate moments, like, for example, when he and Tina were staying behind to work on a case and the quiet closeness and dim lighting of the late evening had made his spartan office feel far too much like privacy.

“You can’t relax?” Tina repeated, and bless her for understanding that feeling constantly on edge and tense wasn’t a trivial thing, but Graves would really prefer to not be having this conversation. He sought out a phrase he thought would likely derail her and went with it.

“I’m rather lacking the equipment I usually use,” he said, making a vague gesture with one hand at his lower half.

There was a pause. Graves turned back to the papers spread out over his desk and tried to concentrate on the mismatched witness reports for the latest statute breach.

Tina cleared her throat. Graves flicked his eyes up to her and stopped, arrested by the faint blush dusting her cheeks.

“I could help with that,” she said. “If you wanted.”

Graves stared. “Help?” he asked in a voice that was ridiculously high pitched, even for his new feminine body. Tina’s blush deepened, but she lifted her chin and held his gaze.

“You don’t know how long you’ll have a woman’s body,” she said determinedly. “You should know how it works.” Against his will, Graves found his mind stuck on the idea of  _Tina_  and  _a woman’s body_  and ran with it, rolling out the images and fantasies he was pretty sure he’d locked away and decided never to think of again.  _Workplace harassment,_ he told himself desperately.  _I’m her boss I really really can’t._

_Except_ , some traitorous part of his mind whispered,  _if she’s offering it, one woman to another, how bad can it be?_

He shied away from the thought and focused desperately on other things. “I have some experience with how women’s bodies work,” he said as drily as he could manage. It came out hoarse and unwittingly sultry, and Tina pressed her knees together and shifted her hips in a failed attempt to stifle her reaction.

“It’s different when you’re doing it to yourself,” she insisted.

Graves ducked his head to hide his expression (which he was pretty sure was a mix of mortified and turned on). He licked suddenly dry lips, struggling to find the words for an answer to  _that_  because he’d never  _considered_  it before but now he could see it clearly in his mind, Tina laying herself back against the bed, sliding a hand down her front and teasing her fingers at her entrance while she tips her head back and moans, rucking up the silk of her nightdress as she rocks into her hand and the catch of her breath as she presses inside –

“I - I’m sorry,” Tina said, interrupting the lengthening silence and taking a step back to give him space. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it. If I’ve made you uncomfortable -”

Graves panicked. The fear of this chance slipping away gripped him and he reached out for her. “No!” Tina froze, looking up at him through part lowered lashes, and Graves found himself gentling his hold and running his thumb in a tentative caress against her wrist. “I’m not uncomfortable,” he promised, low and quiet, aiming deliberately for the husky edge that made her squirm. She stared at him with wide, dark eyes, her lips just barely parted, and when Graves pulled on her wrist she came forward easily. “Show me, Goldstein,” he commanded.

Tina dipped her head, her hair swinging forward to hide her face and her lips curling in a self-satisfied smile. “As you wish, sir,” she purred, sliding her hand up his arm as she stepped closer and backed him against the desk. Graves swallowed, his throat dry. His skin felt over-sensitive and he traced the feel of Tina’s fingers, one of her hands working at the buttons on his shirt - her wrist grazed over his nipple and he couldn’t swallow his gasp in time - and the other resting on his thigh.

“This will be easier if you’re on the desk,” Tina said. She pressed further against him, her left side flush against his and Graves was distracted enough by the way their chests moved and moulded against each other (and his  _nipples_ , they’d never been so damn sensitive before) that he barely noticed her other hand working at his trousers until she slipped it inside.

She raised an eyebrow. “Going commando, director?”

She teased, brushing so fucking  _lightly_  over him that she may as well have been dropping tiny crucios from her fingertips, and he struggled to focus on the question. “I don’t have that kind of underwear,” he managed to say, and for a second the ridiculousness of the situation got to him. He could face down murderers and mob-bosses but he couldn’t face the ladies’ floor of the department store, he was supposed to be working on a case and instead he was being, being  _seduced_  by his second in command what was he  _doing_

Tina curled her finger and pressed against his entrance, and Graves held on to her shoulders and fought to stay upright.

“On the desk,” Tina reminded him, withdrawing her hand just enough for him to obey. The polished wood was cold against the backs of his thighs, and fuck, but even that was enough to make his muscles twitch as Tina pulled at his trousers with one long and tortuously slow movement that ended with him wearing just his shirt and Tina standing too close between his bare legs.

“What are you -” he croaked, but she interrupted.

“The first thing you need to learn,” she said, “is what you like.” Her thumbs moved in two slow circles, one on each leg, each movement taking them closer in. There was heat pooling, low and warm that made Graves want to press his legs together but Tina’s hands kept him in place, her hands and her maddening thumbs. “So,” she continued, as though Graves wasn’t trembling underneath her, “what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to  _get on with it_ ,” Graves snarled.

Tina hummed and completely failed to get on with anything except stroking her fingers, languid and fucking  _slow_ , against the soft crease at the top of Graves’ thighs. “Do you like this?” she asked.

Graves nearly swore at her. He restrained himself through a sheer force of will because Tina was, in theory, teaching him - though he privately thought her methods more suited to torture and interrogation. He concentrated on the feel of her, the warmth of her hips where he was gripping her with his knees, the way his skin twitched and the frissons of fire that her fingers left in their wake.

She skimmed through the dark curls between his legs and he all but sobbed at the stab of  _want_  that flashed through him.

“Do you like it?” Tina repeated, her voice unsteady despite her efforts to keep it calm. Thank fuck for that, because Graves may actually have had to set fire to something if she’d been completely unaffected.

“I like it,” he ground out. “But I swear, if you don’t do  _something_  -”

“Use your hand,” she interrupted. Graves fumbled, reaching in too harshly and pressing wrong and  _why_  was this not easy and instinctive, he’d never missed his dick so much in his entire  _damn life_

“Here,” Tina said, covering his hand with hers. She put the heel of her other palm flat against his pelvis, pushing just hard enough to give him something to rock forward into, and with the hand holding his she curled two of his fingers until they brushed against his labia. “Slowly. Just…” 

“Any slower, Goldstein, and this damn curse is going to break before I -  _oh fuck the fuck what_.”

Tina moaned. Not loudly, but he was curled over with his forehead digging into her shoulder and his free hand tangled in her blouse and he could  _feel_  the vibration of her suppressed moan. He’d have something more intelligent to say about her totally getting off on his reactions if his brain wasn’t currently short circuiting. 

“That,” she panted, “that’s your clitoris, your -”

He growled. “I know what a clitoris is, you don’t need to  _nnnggghhh._ ” She guided his thumb to the right place and  _pressed_ , like the button on a detonator, and he couldn’t stop his hips rocking forward if he tried. “Fuck,” he gasped, the only word he could use to describe how suddenly empty he felt. “I want, fucking  _hell_.”

There was a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him forward, and he didn’t know where Tina’s other hand was but from her hitched breathing and the way her hips were stuttering between his legs he could guess. His fingers were slick and wet and they sank in like they were made to, he tried to close his legs to increase the pressure but only succeeded in drawing Tina closer and holy  _shit_  that pressed their chests together and how could he forget his  _nipples_ , he was a spring coiling tighter and tighter and he whined against Tina’s neck because he couldn’t do it, it felt too much, he was going to break, something had to break -

He clenched spasmodically around his fingers and bit off a sob.

“Shit,  _Graves_ ,” Tina cursed, pulling him closer as her hips rolled harder against him. Once, twice - she tugged on his hair almost hard enough to hurt - and she stuttered to a stop with a soft  _fuck_.

Somehow, that single quiet swear word was the most amazing thing Graves had ever heard in his life. He stayed there, draped over the desk and over Tina, and lazily wondered if he could make her say it again.

He probably could. He traced a lazy spiral on the bare skin of her hip, ducking up under the hem of her shirt, and hid a grin against her shoulder when she shivered.

Definitely. He could definitely make her say it again.


End file.
